


let this be a prayer when shadows fill our day

by knightinbrightfeathers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Quest for Camelot (1998)
Genre: Acceptance, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Arthurian, Blind Character, Camelot, Coming Out, Excalibur, Gen, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Misgendering, Mother-Son Relationship, Trans Character, warning for the bad guy misgendering the good guy and use of misgendering as a coded warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: Enjolras has always wanted to be a knight of the Round Table, but his mother is afraid that Camelot would never accept a man who was named a girl at birth. When the evil Montparnasse attacks Camelot and attempts to steal Excalibur, only to lose it, Enjolras must go into the Forbidden Forest to retrieve the sword and bring it back to the Queen before Montparnasse's dark magic dooms them all.A Quest for Camelot/Les Mis fusion.





	let this be a prayer when shadows fill our day

**Author's Note:**

> "What if I rewrote box-office flop and cheap animated musical Quest for Camelot (1998) into a long fic with no singing and all the anachronisms and bad gags taken out?" I asked myself in 2016. "Also, what if I changed some of the character name spellings and fixed the way they use Merlin as a name even though it was a job description?"  
*John Mulaney voice* And then I didn't.  
I came back to this fic a few months ago, and now it's finally, finally done. I do remember wanting to do a separate story about Ép and Cosette/Euphrasie. I have some old sketches of a younger Éponine for this 'verse. Maybe, in two and a half years, I'll have finished it...  
Title from Celine Dion's "The Prayer" from the movie.  
An eternal thank you to rhien/deservingporcupine for fixing my mistakes and for introducing me to this fandom.
> 
> (If you're looking for the griffin...it's not here. That thing sucked.)

There was nothing that Kailey loved more than listening to her father tell stories of his adventures as a knight. Stories of King Valjean, childless and kind; stories of dreadful enchantments; stories of duels and tournaments. Always, her favorite stories were of battle, war in defense of peace and safety.

“Tell me about the battle against Javert, Papa,” she would beg.

“Hark at the child,” Sir Enjolras would say, beaming at Kailey and her mother. “Tales of bloodshed are unsuitable for such tender ears.”

Kailey would clap her hands over said ears. “No! Tell me!”

“Kailey,” Lady Juliane would chide, and Kailey would blush.

“I want to be a knight, Papa,” she would say.

“When you are older, perhaps,” Sir Enjolras would say, but he’d tell her the stories anyways, always insisting that the battle itself was not as important as the men who fought in it. Kailey would drink his words in and fall asleep curled up on the bearskin rug, her dreams filled with chivalry and honor, loyalty and comradeship.

As she slept, her parents conversed in low voices.

“There is unrest at court,” Sir Enjolras said. “ Thénardier and his squire, Montparnasse, although I don’t rightly know which one leads the other, are loud in their speech against the support His Majesty gives to the outer reaches of the kingdom. They would rather sit in court and count coins all day than ride out in protection of villagers. I fear an attempt to overthrow the king.”

“King Valjean is still strong, and most of the court is still loyal to him,” Lady Juliane said. “And in any case, we are safe here, by the Forest.”

They both looked at Kailey, her yellow curls gleaming in the firelight.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Lady Juliane sighed.

“Perhaps not fast enough,” Sir Enjolras said. “I worry that her thirst for adventure will make her restless when she is older. The world is dangerous for a woman who will not keep to the boundaries of a home.”

Lady Juliane, who knew that danger far better than her husband ever would, smiled and laid a comforting hand on his knee. “She’ll grow up to be a fine young lady, just wait and see.”

-*-

But Sir Enjolras did not see. Before the year was out, Thénardier and his supporters staged an uprising, throwing the kingdom into chaos. And although the unrest was cut short, the toll on the court was high and bloody. Among the dead was Sir Enjolras.

Kailey was out playing by the river when the Merlin came to their little homestead. She only saw the back of his robe, obscured by a long cloud of silvery hair, as he left civilization behind.

“Who was that?” she asked her mother,

“That was the Merlin.”

“Why is he alone, Mama? Where is his ‘prentice? Why did he come? Did he bring a letter from Papa?” Kailey tugged at her mother’s apron. “Mama?”

But Lady Juliane was crying. She sank to her knees in the dirt and clutched Kailey to her.

“Oh, Kailey,” she said finally. “The Merlin has left his apprentice in charge of the kingdom, for he’s going to Avalon. King Valjean is dead, and he’s left no heir.”

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Kailey said, stroking her mother’s hair. “Papa and me will protect you.”

“No, dear heart,” Lady Juliane said, wiping her eyes. “You’re a little girl.  _ I’ll _ protect  _ you _ .”

-*-

The Merlin – or rather, Myriel, for he was the Merlin no longer – did return to Camelot. He came in the night, and by dawn he was already far, far away, deep within the mists of Avalon. He left behind a Merlin ready to guide a ruler-less Camelot to the best of her ability, and a sword stuck through a stone.

The knights who came to the little village at the edge of the Forest to spread the news told Lady Juliane the whole tale. “It came from the Lady of the Lake,” said Sir Mabeuf, one of the few knights of Valjean’s court who still lived. He had been spared by virtue of simply not being present at court at the time of the uprising, as he was old and preferred to spend his days at his estate, tending to his gardens. “It is a good sword, as far as I can tell, but the name- Excalibur! Faugh! And it is supposed to show who is the rightful ruler of all of the land, Merlin says. Not just Camelot, but Albion.”

“Ah, don’t mind my former knight-master,” said Sir Courfeyrac, accepting a drink of ale from a maidservant. “He is as set in his ways as his wrinkles are set in his skin. In truth, a ruler who could bring peace and unity to all the land would be a blessing. Already raiders gnaw at our borders. I would rather the land’s magic decide on a king than another bloody war.”

“Has the paint on your shield dried yet, that you speak so freely?” asked Mabeuf, but he smiled. “We speak of heavy things, and I am an old man, long since weary of battle and politics. Come, child, what is your name?” This to Kailey, who was lurking in the doorway.

“Enjolras,” she said, approaching. At Lady Juliane’s pointed cough, she dropped a quick curtsey. “Sir knight.”

“So it is,” Courferyac said, laughing. “Will you join the court of Camelot as a page, little one?”

“I’m not so little,” said Kailey, who was small for her age. “And I won’t. What use would that be, if there’s no king to knight me?”

“Quick as a whip, I see,” Mabeuf said. “She takes after you in that regard, Juliane, if you would excuse an old man’s idle thoughts.”

“She is like her father in other ways,” Lady Juliana said wryly. “She is ducking her chores right now.”

“I’ll help her,” Courferyac said, rising from the table. “I could never let a damsel labor away while I sit here and drink; why, even my friends cannot keep me seated while we are at the tavern, and laugh as I carry trays to the tables.”

“Sit and drink, sir knight,” Kailey said. “I can do my own work, and for all your pretty words, you’d be better off helping the tavern maid wipe the tables, as I wager she’d give you a kiss. As for me, I’d rather kiss your horse.”

Mabeuf’s laugh followed her out of the house.

-*-

When the knights came, months later, to announce the crowning of the new monarch, Kailey stayed out of the way. Later, she would learn from the servants that the newly crowned queen had offered Lady Juliane a place in court, and Lady Juliane had turned it down, claiming that it would only bring her old memories and pain.

So Kailey grew up in the fields and on the fringes of the Forest, instead of in the stone courtyards and corridors of Camelot Castle. She hungered for adventure, but she was willing to wait and practice swordplay with her father’s old, dented shield and a wooden stick. Every day, Lady Juliane looked at her daughter’s face and knew that she had made the right decision. The new Camelot was a stranger to her, but the old would never have accepted a girl who dressed in boy’s clothes and preferred arrows to embroidery.

She knew that she had made the only possible decision when Kailey said, “Call me Enjolras, mother,” with her chin out, fear and determination clear in eyes as blue as Juliane’s own.

“If you wish it, my darling,” she said, and when Enjolras’s shoulders hitched in a sob, she opened her arms to her son.

-*-

Enjolras loved nothing more than stories of the Round Table. Travelers passing through on their detour around the Forest found themselves pestered for any tidbit they could give him. What of Queen Euphrasie, and the young Merlin? What of Sir Combeferre the Wise, and Sir Bahorel the Strong? What of Sir Jehan du Lac, and Sir Feuilly of the Fan?

“Stop bothering our guests, son,” Lady Juliane would say, setting a loaf of bread or a pitcher of mead before the travelers.

“Let the boy ask, milady,” they would say. “It’s natural for a boy to be curious, out here in the middle of nowhere.” They always thought Enjolras was younger than he was, a boy who’d not yet reached his growth, and neither Enjolras nor his mother sought to correct them.

These stories of the Round Table- for this was the name given by the people to Euphrasie’s court- were Enjolras’s and Juliane’s only connections to the outside world. Lady Juliane was content with this quiet life, but Enjolras craved more.

So when the wagon train came, it was only natural that Enjolras drop his training sword and run to the house. Lady Juliane was already standing in the courtyard when he arrived, speaking with a narrow, well-dressed man. When she saw Enjolras, she made a shooing motion half-hidden by her skirts, and Enjolras paused, confused.

The man speaking with Lady Juliane was quicker on the uptake. He turned and beckoned to Enjolras, smiling with too many teeth.

“And this is Sir Enjolras’s child?” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Come here, youngster. Put down the shield.”

“In the dirt?” Enjolras said scornfully.

“Kailey,” Lady Juliane said, and Enjolras knew that something was very wrong. “Be polite. This is Sir Montparnasse.”

“She’s pretty enough, if a little rough around the edges,” Montparnasse said. “Tell me, Kailey, do you like magic tricks?”

“No.”

“Too bad,” Montparnasse said. He slung an arm around Enjolras’s waist. “Milady, would you like to see what power I have gained since I threw free the shackles of my knight-master?”

“You’ll never take Camelot,” Lady Juliane said, ignoring him. “The Queen and her knights are stronger than they were in your time, and the Merlin is young.”

“Oh, yes.  _ Dear _ Éponine,” Montparnasse said, digging his nails into Enjolras’s hip. “My dear Lady Juliane, you have no idea what I can do.” With a courtly gesture, as if showing off a new robe, he gestured to one of his guards. “Show them, Babet.”

Enjolras watched in horror as a lanky man with the air of a wandering actor strolled up with a battle ax in one hand and the scrawny rooster he’d dubbed Soup in the other. Montparnasse shoved him aside into his mother’s arms. “Watch, and you’ll see that Camelot and  Thénardier’s little brat are helpless against us.”

Enjolras watched in horror as poor Soup was transformed into a monster with a blade for a beak. Montparnasse’s men followed, transformed by a potion into horrible iron-armed beasts.

His mother’s voice in his ear shook him from his stupor. “Run,” she whispered.

“No, Mama,” Enjolras said. “I won’t leave you.”

“You must. Warn Camelot.” A kiss to his cheek, and a shove, and Enjolras was crawling through the potion’s vile smoke. He’d reached the stables, thinking to escape on a horse, when a voice made him freeze.

“What do you mean, you lost it?” Montparnasse’s voice was clear of his former theatrics, and the ice in it made Enjolras shudder. "Do you know how much work it took to get you through the Merlin's defenses into Camelot?"

“That silver falcon is fast,” replied a voice that could not possibly belong to any human. “I attacked it, but it dropped the sword over the Forest.”

“Useless, stinking coward! You overgrown child, you milk-livered idiot! Is there a mission you can complete without failure?”

“If I am so useless, set me free,” whined the creature. “Release my soul and let me be at peace.”

“At peace! Do you forget that it was only my intervention that stopped your soul from descending to hell? Do you at least remember where the falcon dropped Excalibur?”

Enjolras gasped.

“Who’s there?” Montparnasse asked sharply. “Who is that?”

Enjolras swore at himself and crawled as quickly as he could towards the stables. Leaping onto the back of the horse closest to the doors, he dug his heels into the horse’s sides. Shouts followed him out of the courtyard, Montparnasse’s cry of “After her!” barely audible over the sound of the horse’s hooves on the dirt and Enjolras’s own heartbeat in his ears. He urged the horse away from the path, saying silent apologies to the farmers whose crops he was trampling.

He’d almost lost his pursuit when they reached the border of the Forest. Enjolras had grown up hearing wild tales of the Forest, each more of a warning than the last, but to the horse it was more than an out-of-bounds story. It reared and bucked as if it had scented a wolf, throwing Enjolras from its back into a bush.

The thorny twigs scratched at Enjolras’s face and arms as he scrambled to his feet and continued on foot. The sounds of pursuit crashing behind him made him careless, and his foot slipped, sending him sliding down a muddy slope into a pool. Fighting waterweeds, Enjolras broke the surface, gasping.

His pursuit followed him into the pool only seconds later. Heart racing painfully, feet skidding on the slick stones at the bottom of the pool, Enjolras threw up a hand to protect himself- only to gape in shock as an impossibly deep whirlpool appeared and sucked one of the two henchmen into the water.

The other henchman stared open mouthed at the empty space where his partner had stood. Enjolras tried to take advantage of this distraction, but his legs tangled in the weeds and he fell once more. The splash drew the henchman’s attention, and he lumbered towards Enjolras with evil intent in his steely eyes.

“Hey, rat’s arse,” said someone from behind it, and before the henchman could respond, a wooden staff clobbered him on the head. A second blow, this time to his side, sent him flying, whereupon he was snatched out of the air by a wooden tongue and pulled into the gaping maw of a tree stump, which let out a truly outrageous burp and resumed its ordinary appearance.

Enjolras finally, finally remembered his knife and slashed at the tangle holding him down, ending up with a handful of not waterweeds, but netting.

“Thank you so much,” he said, looking up at his defender.

The strange man knelt and ran a hand through the water. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Enjolras said. “You saved my life!”

“Believe me, it was an accident,” said the stranger. “Wouldn’t you know, my nets are all ripped up. Damn.”

Enjolras guiltily let the shreds of net in his hand fall into the water. “Even if it was an accident, I’m grateful to you.”

The stranger stood up, wiping his hands on his shirt. “That’s nice. Now, since you’re alive, you can go.”

“But…” Enjolras clenched his fists. “I can’t just go! I’m lost, and I’m being followed, and I have to get to Camelot!”

“Not my problem.”

Enjolras stared at him. “How can you say that? Listen, maybe you don’t know, but Camelot is about to be attacked. I  _ have _ to warn them.”

“ _ Sure _ you do. Listen, pipsqueak, maybe wait until your voice breaks before you go on a quest.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth. “I’m seventeen.”

“And I don’t care.” The stranger gestured with his staff. “Camelot’s thataway. Avoid the eyeweeds, they’re invasive.”

Enjolras glared at him. The man wouldn’t even make eye contact, staring at a spot few inches over Enjolras’s left shoulder. “Listen-” he began, and a falcon landed on the tip of the man’s staff, feathers flashing silver.

Enjolras gasped.

“What’s your problem?” the stranger said.

“A falcon just landed on your staff.”

The man shrugged. “It’s a bird on a stick, buttercup.”

“It’s silver,” Enjolras said, ignoring the nickname. “That means it knows where Excalibur is.”

“Yeah, in Camelot.”

“No, it was stolen and it’s somewhere in the-” Enjolras froze. “I have to find it! The Queen will need it if she’s to fight Montparnasse!”

“Montparnasse? That’s who’s chasing you?” The stranger frowned. “All right. Come on.” He strode out of the pool.

“Come on?” Enjolras followed, wet boots squishing against the ground with each step. “Does that mean you’re going to help me find Excalibur?”

“No, it means  _ I’m  _ going to find Excalibur. But I’ll show you the way to Camelot, and maybe you’ll even get there in time to warn them.”

Enjolras scowled. “No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“You are not. It’s much too dangerous for you in the Forest.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Why? Because I’m small? Because I’m weak? Because I’m-” He gulped. “I can handle myself!”

“No, you can’t,” said the stranger, still walking, not even bothering to look at him.

Enjolras’s anger flared. “Look, you-”

The stranger whirled. “No, you look. Or rather, listen. You don’t know the Forest. I do. I’ve lived here for years. I know which plants to avoid, which landmarks will rearrange themselves overnight, and how not to get eaten. So I’m going, alone, to find Excalibur, because it needs to be done. You’ll just get in the way.”

Enjolras looked into pale grey eyes. “You’re blind.”

The stranger’s mouth twisted. “No, really? I hadn’t noticed.” He turned away.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said, running after him. “That was rude of me.”

“Fits in with the rest of your behavior, though.”

“I  _ am _ sorry, truly. I understand that it’s dangerous, but isn’t it just as dangerous for me to travel alone through the Forest? More, even. I swear I’ll be careful, and I won’t get in the way. I can help.”

“Will you do as I say, and follow my lead?”

“Yes, I promise.”

The stranger frowned. The falcon shrieked hoarsely at him, and he told it, “All right, all right, you thankless featherbrain, he can come.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said. “My name is Enjolras.”

A strange expression crossed the stranger’s face. “R.” For a moment, Enjolras thought he might say something else, but then the falcon took wing with a cry, and they set off without a word.

-*-

“So,” Enjolras said. “How do you know that bird?”

They had been walking for a long time, and R hadn’t spoken at all. The silence was oppressive to Enjolras, and the Forest frightened him. Huge flowers uprooted themselves and whirled into the sky with a  _ whop whop whop _ sound. Water defied the pull of gravity, leaving R dry but drenching Enjolras when he followed. Huge roots rippled and launched him skywards.

Enjolras felt that if the Forest was scary, then it ought to be properly scary, full of ravenous wolves and sharp-toothed bears. As it was, he felt as if he was being followed- which, of course, he was- and it made his skin crawl.

“A bird’s a bird, sweetpea.”

“Don’t call me that. I know it’s a bird, but falcons don’t just nuzzle up to strange humans. It knows you.”

“You know a lot about falcons, do you?” R said, thwacking a rogue branch with his staff.

Enjolras made a face. Hugo the hobby seemed to consider resting on his arm a pastime far superior to hunting, and would resist its master to the point of clinging to the leather armguard even if Enjolras tried to physically shake it off. “I know a bit. Are you going to give me an answer?”

R sighed. “I know its creator.”

“You mean its mother? Did you help train it?”

“No, I do not mean its mother. Gav isn’t a real bird. It’s made of magic.”

That did explain the coloring. “Who are they, then?”

“Who?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Gav’s creator.”

“You’re very nosy, you know?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said simply.

R laughed. “Well then. I knew her when we were both much younger, although she was younger than I. Still is, obviously. Her name’s Éponine.”

The name sounded familiar. “Where does she live?”

“Camelot.”

“So you used to live in Camelot.”

“Do you never hush?”

Enjolras ignored him. “You know, I’ve never been to Camelot.”

“I’m sure they’ll give you the full tour if you save it,” R said, causing Enjolras’s shoulders to slump.

-*-

They made camp that night when Enjolras could not take another step. With no supplies, they supped on bland, spongy mushrooms and lay down on a bed of moss that R said would keep predators- and other dangers- away.

The musty smell of the moss bothered Enjolras, and the sight of thick branches overhead, so different from the stone ceiling of his own bedroom, unsettled him. Enjolras wished, fiercely and desperately, that he was home and safe, and that Camelot were not in danger, and that his mother was not in the hands of Montparnasse and his cohorts.

The thought of Lady Juliane at the mercies of Montparnasse would not leave him. His mother was brave and clever and strong, but she had no weapons, and she was heavily outnumbered by magically armed creatures. His eyes burned, and no matter how much he chided himself for a coward- hadn’t he always wished for adventure?- tears spilled down his cheeks.

Behind him, R shifted. A broad, warm palm pressed between Enjolras’s shoulder blades, rubbing slow, calming circles. Enjolras stifled his sobs and forced his own breath back to normal, ashamed of his childish behavior, and soon the hand was removed, leaving Enjolras to dry his tears in the cool moss.

-*-

The next day, Enjolras woke with a throbbing headache, filled with directionless anger. He accepted the unfamiliar fruits R pressed into his hands without making eye contact. Every birdcall, every chittering bush, seemed to mock him, until every step forced a word out of his mouth, as if the building frustration in his head was evicting all former tenants.

“Why did you leave Camelot?”

“The view didn’t suit me,” R said drily.

“But why did you really leave?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why would anyone ever want to leave Camelot? Were you drunk and disorderly? Did they kick you out?”

“Yes, they kicked a child out for bothering tavern goers.”

“How old were you when you left?”

“As old as my tongue, and a few months older than my teeth.”

“How did you lose your sight?”

“Shh.” R cupped a hand around one ear. “D’you hear that?”

Enjolras froze. “What is it?”

R smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Silence. Beautiful, beautiful silence.”

Enjolras scowled at him. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“You don’t seem to respond like a normal person to anything,” R retorted. “How was I supposed to know what would make you shut up?”

Enjolras felt tears sting his eyes. “Go to hell.”

“Already there.”

At noon, the trees began to thin, and by the time the sun was getting in Enjolras’s eyes, they had reached the end of the Forest. The sight of the open sky was a weight lifted from Enjolras’s shoulders, but R tensed up.

“What’s wrong?”

R just shook his head.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Enjolras stretched, surveying the rocky, misty land around them. “This is odd. Where did all the trees go?”

“They got burnt up,” R said. He tilted his head, frowning.

“Like a wildfire?”

“Exactly not like a wildfire.”

“Why don’t they grow back?”

“Because of the gasses.”

“What gasses?”

R turned around sharply. “Would you shut up?”

“Why? Am I bothering you? Is my inability to respond to anything like a normal person upsetting to you?” Enjolras felt a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry for crying last night! I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep and you had to comfort me like a baby! I didn’t think it would be such a big thing, but I guess I’m not  _ normal _ -”

“No, shut up because of the dragons,” R said, as a huge shadow fell through the mists and a roar bounced off the cliffs around them.

“Run,” R shouted.

Enjolras gaped up at the sky. “You mean there really are dragons here?”

“Yes! It’s dragon country! The dragons are implied!”

“It’s not like there was a sign or anything!”

R growled in frustration and grabbed Enjolras’s hand. “Lead,” he said.

“But-”

“I can’t see, and I don’t know this area all that well and we don’t have  _ time _ , so run, damn you,” R said, and Enjolras ran.

It was uneven terrain, and the mists obscured the distance. Noxious clouds made their throats close up.

“Have we reached the river yet?” R asked, coughing.

“River?”

“It’s narrowest here, and we should be able to avoid the waterfall if we go through the nests-”

Enjolras stored both ‘waterfall’ and ‘nests’ away for a later time. “No, no river,” he said, only to nearly fall straight into said river.

R hauled him back. “You alive?”

“You might have mentioned that the water is corrosive,” Enjolras squeaked, wiping his boot dry.

“It’s a marsh runoff. Be thankful we don’t need to go through there,” R said. “Is there any way to cross it?”

“Uh,” Enjolras said. “How good are you at stepping stones?”

A gust of flame light up the fog.

“I’m a quick learner,” R said. “You go first.”

Enjolras leaping. The stepping stone bobbed in the water, round and slick. “Careful, they’re slippery and they move,” he called back, leaping to the next one.

“Great!” R called, waving his staff over the river’s surface until he found a stone. It made a sound like wood on eggshell, and Enjolras realized that the stepping stones were exactly that - fragments of eggshell. He skipped across to the other side, and landed with his heart in his throat.

“A little help?”

Enjolras shook himself and looked back. R was balanced precariously on one shell fragment, and his staff weaved back and forth without finding another landing spot.

“A little to the left,” Enjolras called out. “A little more, yes, there!”

R leapt, landing on hands and knees. “Goddamnit,” he said. “That hurts like buggery.”

“You have to get up,” Enjolras said.

“Funny. That’s funny.” R got to both knees before a wavelet rocked his eggshell and he dropped back down. “Remember what I said about fast learner? That was all a liiiiiiiiie!”

A truly terrifying roar rattled Enjolras’s teeth and shook the ground. It swept R to the shore, and Enjolras rushed to help him up.

“Come on, come on, it’s getting really close,” Enjolras said.

“We need to find shelter, wait it out. Dragons are faster than us. Only reason they haven’t got us yet is…” R shrugged, an impressive feat considering he was running for his life.

“Over here,” Enjolras said, pulling on R’s arm. They ducked into a crack in the cliffside.

“Is this enough cover?” R asked anxiously, pressing closer to the rock and thus closer to Enjolras.

Enjolras gulped. “Don’t think so,” he said. “I think it goes a little deeper though.”

He took a step into the deeper murk of the crevice. His foot slipped, and he skidded on stone smooth as glass. There was only time for one short shout, and a surprised R was dragged after him into the chute.

It was a short journey, but it made Enjolras’s heart race all the same. R’s scream echoed after him. When Enjolras shot out of the chute and landed on a sandy floor, he only had a few seconds to scramble to his feet before a flying R knocked him down again.

“Urgh,” Enjolras mumbled around a mouthful of hair. “Get off.”

“Where are we?” R asked, rolling to the side with a thump. “Is it safe?”

“I think so,” Enjolras said, looking around. “It looks like some kind of underground cave. There’s glowing stuff growing on the walls and a bunch of tunnels.”

“I feel a breeze that isn’t from that tunnel we slid down in,” R said. “Maybe one of those will be a way out.” He didn’t look convinced.

“Uh huh,” Enjolras said. “Maybe we should stay where we are until the dragons calm down.” He picked at a marsh water hole in his breeches. “Listen, about before, I, uh. I might have said some things, and… I mean… I endangered us, and I was stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” R said. “All that rubbish about hating you for crying, it’s not true. You’re scared, and I bet this is your first time away from home, especially with such an important mission. I think crying is a pretty normal response to that.”

“So what did you mean when you said I don’t respond like a normal person?”

R scratched the back of his neck. “You were angry at me for offering comfort when you cried. I was pissed at you. It’s really selfish of me, I know.”

“I wasn’t angry at you,” Enjolras said. “I was angry at myself.”

“For what?” R shook his head. “I remember people saying that men don’t cry when I lived in Camelot, but it’s all complete horse apples. Men cry.”

Enjolras ducked his head. “My mother’s a captive at the hands of Montparnasse. It’s been just me and her forever. She’s the most important person in the world to me, and I - I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That’s why I was crying.”

R fell quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t excuse me being a flap-mouthed clotpole,” Enjolras said, making R snort. “Besides, she’s the strongest, smartest -”

R held up a hand. “Hush.”

Enjolras bit back on a retort and hushed. A few seconds later, R shook his head. “No, it was nothing. Sorry about that. I really did think I heard something.”

“I know.”

“Your mother will be fine, you know,” R said. “If anyone can survive and outwit Montparnasse, it’s-”

“Oh my God, there’s something in here with us,” Enjolras hissed.

R immediately jumped to his feet. “What? Where?”

“I saw this huge shadow! It had teeth like, like really big teeth! And claws! And two heads!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” R said. “Way to pull the blind man’s leg, snowdrop.”

“That’s rude,” said a scaly, raspy voice. “No one likes being turned into a joke.”

“I should think not,” said another, hissy and whistley, voice.

“Who’s there?” R called out.

There was silence. Then, just as they were beginning to relax:

“Do you think they’re gone?” asked the scaly voice.

“Bossuet,” sighed the hissy voice, “really.”

“We’re not afraid of you,” Enjolras said, stocking up on all his bravado.

“Please don’t hurt us,” said the hissy voice.

“Argh, we’re terrifying monsters! Run away!” said the other.

“I thought we agreed to save the scary monster tactic for a Tuesday?”

“It is a Tuesday.”

“Is it?” R asked Enjolras quietly.

Enjolras shook his head. “’fraid not.”

“Oh, it’s so hard to keep track,” sighed the scaly voice.

“This is ridiculous,” R said, shaking his head irritably. Gav, who’d fluttered down the tunnel after them, screeched in agreement.

“Well then,” said the scaly voice.

“Quite,” said the hissy voice.

From behind a boulder came a dragon like none Enjolras had ever heard of in tales. Blue and grey scales covered a round body atop two sturdy legs, ending in the same fearsome claws as the two sturdy arms. A stubby tail and two undersized blue wings peeked out from behind.

It also had two heads, which loomed over Enjolras and R.

“Sorry about that,” said the head attached to the shorter neck. It spoke in the hissy voice. “We thought you might be dragon hunters.”

“But obviously you’re not,” said the taller head, which spoke in the scaly voice. “Why, that’s the Merlin’s magic in that bird, clear as day! And the Merlin would never condone dragon hunting.”

“Maybe if they were being annoying,” R muttered under his breath.

“My name is Bossuet,” said the taller, scaly-voiced dragon head. “And this is my nearest and dearest, Joly.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Joly.

“Well, we are.”

“Bewitched, really.”

“Enchanted.”

““Wait, what?” R yelped. “What’s going on?”

“Joly and Bossuet are conjoined dragons,” Enjolras explained.

“Ah, of course. How perfectly obvious.”

“Well, we didn’t use to be conjoined.”

“Oh, did you use to be two seperate dragons?” Enjolras asked.

“Of course not. Dragons can’t talk.”

“We were humans. Knights errant on a quest for an enchanted goblet, which, alas, turned out to have the wrong kind of enchantment.”

“Just my luck,” sighed Bossuet.

“We were both at fault. I should have known that something that glowed that much wasn’t healthy.”

“I’m getting a headache,” R said, rubbing his temples. “Listen, you two, can you get us out of these tunnels? Preferably as close to the edge of dragon territory as possible.”

“Um,” Joly said. “Dragons aren’t really encouraged to leave dragon territory.”

“We’re rather discouraged,” Bossuet said. “With fire and swords. Neither dragons nor humans like dragons leaving.”

“Well, you two aren’t really dragons, right? You’re enchanted humans. Besides, we’re on a quest,” Enjolras said.

“And in a hurry,” R added. “We need to find Excalibur and return it to Camelot before Montparnasse attacks.”

“Excalibur!” exclaimed the dragons in unison. They exchanged a look, then nodded.

“We’ll lead you out of here.”

“And we’ll come with you to Camelot. We can fight.”

“And maybe if we help, the Merlin could break our enchantment.”

“I’m sure she would,” Enjolras said encouragingly.

“But don’t talk this much,” R said. “She hates blabber.”

-*-

They were ten minutes down the tunnel before Enjolras stopped in his tracks.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. “You used to be friends with the Merlin?”

R’s expression shut down.

-*-

“Back then, we were all urchins wandering around the castle grounds. Me, Éponine, and little Cosette, that was her name back then.” 

It had taken the whole journey through the underground tunnels, as well as the time it took to set up camp, before R agreed to tell Enjolras his story. Even so, he spoke quietly, the two of them on one side of the fire as Joly and Bossuet slept on the other.

“I was just a stable boy, and Éponine was the daughter of a knight. Cosette was Valjean’s ward, but Thenardier made sure that everyone remembered she was merely the daughter of a whore Valjean had met, not even the king’s bastard. I didn’t care, of course. Never knew my parents, myself. Éponine was mean about it sometimes, but that’s just how children are…” R tapped a finger against his knee. “And Cosette never minded. She was an angel. So we were all friends, of a sort.”

“One day, there was a fire in the stables. I tried to get the horses out. One of them kicked me in the head.”

“You lost your sight,” Enjolras said softly. “How old?”

“Ah, I was ten. Nobody needed a blind stableboy. Cosette made sure I got to stay in the castle, but it felt like pity. I started hiding from her and from Éponine. Told myself Éponine had enough on her hands anyway, being the Merlin’s ‘prentice, and I wasn’t worthy of being around the king’s ward. I hid from everyone, but one day someone found me and pulled me out of my self-pity. Lord Enjolras.”

“My father?” Enjolras’s eyes went round as saucers.

R nodded. “Your father refused to let me brood. He helped me, taught me to fight.” R patted his staff. “Gave me this. He gave me hope. I’d always had dreams of becoming a knight, and he made me feel as if I could still achieve them, even if I was blind.”

“He always made me feel as if I could be a knight, too,” Enjolras whispered.

“Well, of course you could. You’re a knight’s son. And you’re brave as hell, even if you are annoying.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, butterblossom.” R grinned at him, and for a moment, Enjolras was glad that the dark - and R’s lack of sight - hid his blush. “But then - well, you know.”

Enjolras felt his throat tighten up. “He died.”

“Thenardier murdered him,” R said harshly. “Sir Enjolras died protecting his king. He was a true knight until the end.”

“But the king died too.”

“Yes, but your father bought him some time. If that filthy traitor Montparnasse hadn’t used dark magic on the king and on Thenardier to get them out of there, he would have lived and the traitors would have been caught.”

“I wager he thought he’d left Camelot in shambles,” Enjolras said fiercely. “He didn’t bet on Queen Euphrasie being the true heir to the throne.”

“And he didn’t bet on Éponine being such a powerful Merlin, either,” R added. “What she lacked in experience, she made up for in cunning.”

“So when did you leave Camelot?” Enjolras asked.

“After your father died. There was fear in the air, and pain and misery. It overwhelmed me, made me sink back into my old depression. And with Sir Enjolras gone, I had no one left, no way to accomplish my dreams, and no reason to stay. I came here, to the Forest. I was lost and alone and I almost died half a dozen times… and then Gav showed up.” At the mention of his name, the falcon opened a yellow eye. “I could recognize the feel of Éponine’s magic when he landed on my arm. Gav helped me find my way around the Forest. He saved my life.”

“Éponine saved your life,” Enjolras said. “She must still have cared about you as a friend, if she sent Gav to you.”

R shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Maybe yes,” Enjolras insisted. “Once we’ve saved Camelot, you’ll see. They’ll knight us both.”

“Once we’ve saved Camelot, huh?” R’s voice took on a teasing lilt.

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Enjolras sniffed, but he nudged R with an elbow. “But you’re pretty good with that staff.”

“Thanks, posypants.”

“Ugh,” Enjolras groaned. He lay down, rolling onto his side. “You’re the worst.”

“Good night, Enjolras.”

“Night, R.”

-*-

They found Excalibur the next day, with Gav leading them into a thicket of vines that seemed determined to pull all of Enjolras’s hair out. R, of course, simply batted them out of the way with his staff.

“You’ve got to teach me that,” Enjolras pafnted, then yelped as a particularly insistent vine tried to pull Excalibur out of his hands.

“I suppose, now that you’re the guardian of Excalibur, you need to learn how to defend yourself around here,” R said. “I assume you’ve had training?”

“Some,” Enjolras said reluctantly. “Mostly with a wooden stick.”

“But you’re a nobleman’s son. Aren’t you supposed to have tutors and things?”

“Well, I didn’t,” Enjolras snapped.

“All right, don’t bite my head off. I get it, hard times all around. We’ll start with the basics.”

“All right,” Enjolras said, relenting. “Can the first lesson be figuring out a way to shorten Excalibur’s belt so I don’t drag the Queen’s sword through the mud?”

“Wow, you must be tiny. Cosette was never a tall child.”

“Maybe she grew,” Enjolras grumbled.

R patted Enjolras on the head. “No, you’re just short.”

Enjolras swatted his hand away. “Teach me to fight.”

“Sure,” R said easily.

-*-

The rest of the day was spent making as much headway as they could. Gav scouted ahead, flying back to them and guiding them around particularly difficult parts of the forest. There were still plenty of dangers in their path, and R had plenty of teaching opportunities.

“You’ve got to time it properly,” he said as Enjolras held out the stout stick R found for him, eyeing a weaving tongue-plant warily. “If you attack too soon, it’ll grab your staff. If you attack too late, it’ll grab you.” The tongue plant darted out, and Enjolras whacked it hard enough to send the staff flying from his hands.

“I got it!” Enjolras cheered.

“You sure did, honeycup,” R agreed. “But you lost your weapon.”

“But I got it,” Enjolras insisted. “I defeated my opponent.”

“Yes, but in battle, you’re going to have -” Another tongue plant, which had been hidden by some bracken, shot out and hit Enjolras in the back of the knees. Before it could manage to grab him, Joly and Bossuet stepped on it, squashing the fleshy red plant flat. “-another opponent.”

“Never mind,” Joly said, patting a pouting Enjolras on the shoulder. “You’re doing pretty well for a youngster.”

“I’m seventeen,” Enjolras mumbled.

“You just need more practice,” Bossuet said. “And you’ve got a great teacher.”

“A really, really talented and dedicated teacher,” Joly added, winking.

Enjolras blushed.

“What are you two on about?” R asked. “Come on, let’s keep walking. We’ll find you some of those squeaky plants, those are good agility training.”

“Are there any, you know, animals in this forest?” Enjolras asked.

“You know, I don’t think there are.”

-*-

The Forest ended on a little rise. Beyond it the trees petered out into clumps and a road came into view, skirting the Forest like a man unwilling to get close to a cliff’s edge. In the distance rose the spires of Camelot, proudly displaying the queen’s blue banner.

“We’ve made it,” Enjolras’s breathed. He stared at Camelot with wide and hungry eyes. Beside him, Bossuet and Joly clutched at each other, twin draconic smiles on their faces.

“Almost,” R said. He squeezed Enjolras’s shoulder. “If you’re quick, you’ll make it in time to warn them.”

The hunger in Enjolras’s eyes turned to confusion. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“Oh, no,” R said, waving a hand in dismissal. “You have no need of me outside of the Forest. I’ll only get in your way.”

“Of course I have need of you! You’re part of this, too. We found Excalibur together. I would have been lost without you.”

“Camelot doesn’t need me to be its hero,” R said quietly. “It needs you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Enjolras said hotly. “You’re a hero too.”

“Heroes aren’t blind hermits with a stick, sunshine. They’re knight’s sons with Excalibur strapped around their waist. I don’t belong to that world.”

“Yes you do,” Enjolras said. “And if you don’t, well then, I don’t belong to it either!”

“Nice try, kid.” R’s smile was more of a grimace. “I’ve had enough pity to last a lifetime. I’d rather not get any from you.”

“It’s not  _ pity _ ,” Enjolras growled. “It’s - I - oh, I can’t! You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe it’s good that I’m not coming with you, then,” R said. “Good luck, Enjolras.” And with that, he turned away and disappeared into the deep dark of the Forest, the glint of Gavroche’s wings the last thing to fade into the shadows.

Enjolras watched him go, frozen in place. Bossuet and Joly watched as he opened his mouth - closed it - opened it - closed it again - then whirled away and began marching towards Camelot.

“Oh, dear,” Joly murmured. “A pity.”

“Nothing to be done,” Bossuet said regretfully. “Not now, at least.”

They exchanged a look and trotted after Enjolras, catching up with him easily.

“I can’t believe him,” Enjolras said once they caught up. “Doesn’t he want to save Camelot?”

“He did send you with a dragon for protection,” Bossuet pointed out. “So it’s not as if -”

“But he could be a hero,” Enjolras burst out. “He could prove himself, prove to everyone that he’s just as good, that he belongs.”

“It’s hard to prove to others that you belong when you don’t believe it yourself,” Joly said. “Not everyone has your conviction, you know.”

Enjolras stared at them. “You - do you -”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Bossuet promised. “It’s just that dragons have a keen sense of smell.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said.

“Anyway, your body doesn't make you who you are,” Joly said. “Look at Bossuet and me. We've got the bodies of dragons, but the souls of knights.”

“Very poetic,” Bossuet said.

“Why, thank you.”

Enjolras stared at Camelot in the distance. “I have to go back,” he said abruptly.

“What? No!” Joly pointed at Camelot. “You have to return Excalibur.”

“And warn the queen,” Bossuet added. “This is a very nice revelation about your feelings towards R, but people’s lives are hanging in the balance!” This last sentence was a shout, because Enjolras had taken off at a run.

It was at this point, unfortunately, when Montparnasse’s troupe came over the rise.

For Joly and Bossuet, there was no time to do anything but hide as well as they could in the brush at the side of the road. For Enjolras, there was no time at all. One of Montparnasse’s henchmen grabbed him with arms that ended in sharp blades. The man’s whole body was now metal, and though he struggled, Enjolras could not escape.

Montparnasse stepped forward, smiling with altogether too many teeth. “Hello, Kailey. I’m glad we’ve finally caught up with you. You’ve been quite annoying, for a girl.”

“That’s not my name,” Enjolras yelled. “And I’m not a girl!” He spat at Montparnasse, missing the man’s polished boot by inches.

“Oh, how tiresome,” Montparnasse said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I did hear that Lady Juliane had more or less gone into hiding. I suppose this is why. Well, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you again. But first, I’ll take that.”

A jerk of the arm from the henchman who held him captive, and Excalibur’s scabbard slid from Enjolras’s waist. Montparnasse bent to pick it up, drawing the sword and holding it up to the light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He gestured to the wagons behind him. “Put him in with Lady Juliane.”

Enjolras struggled, but it was all in vain. He could only watch over his shoulder as Montparnasse withdrew the little bottle of potion from his shirt pocket and drenched the hand holding Excalibur in the horrible stuff. Montparnasse’s hand began to smoke, and the potion seemed to crawl up Excalibur, turning its silvery sheen into something sickly and sinister. The same infection spread up his arm until shoulder to sword tip was covered in a black metal that gleamed green.

“Don’t worry,” Montparnasse called, as his henchman tossed Enjolras into a wagon. “I’ll make sure Euphrasie gets it back. Or gets it  _ in  _ the back.” He laughed, and the henchman slammed it shut.

“Enjolras?”

Enjolras turned around, and there was his mother.

Lady Juliane’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh, sweet,” she said. “Thank God you’re safe.”

Enjolras gave a sob and threw himself into her arms. “I failed, Mama. And now Camelot will be lost.”

“No, dear, you were brave.” Lady Juliane petted Enjolras’s curls, gently untangling a journey’s worth knots. The wagon jolted and began to move. Under the noise, Lady Juliane whispered, “Don’t lose hope, darling. We’ll find a way.”

-*-

The dragons rose, shaking, from their hiding place. They had known each other for so long that there was no disagreement and no doubt. They simply looked at each other and headed in the way Enjolras had been running - towards the Forest.

-*-

It was an hour’s panicked run to catch up to R. Halfway through, when they reached a stream and the scent ended, Gavroche flew up to them and landed on a branch on the other side of the stream.

“Thank you,” Joly panted, and they followed the silver-winged falcon into the depths of the Forest.

“I kind of want to eat him,” Bossuet muttered.

Joly shook his head. “Too much magic. Upsets the stomach.”

The rest of the run was completed in silence, until they stumbled to a halt in front of R.

“Help!”

“What?” yelped R.

“It’s us - Joly - and Bossuet -”

“Enjolras is in trouble -”

“Captured by Montparnasse -”

“And he has Excalibur!”

R swore, jumping to his feet. “We’ll never get there in time.”

“We can fly, sort of,” Bossuet said. “But we’ll need your help.”

“Yes, fine, whatever you need!” R paused. “What do you need?”

They told him.

“That seems simple,” R said.

“Turn into a dragon and see if you don’t lose your sense of humor.”

-*-

The wagons stopped behind a little copse that hid them from the walls of Camelot. There, the henchmen packed into the wagons, and Lady Juliane was brought up to drive the front wagon, so the guards would let them in. Enjolras’s protests caused him to be bound and gagged. He glared at the wooden slats under his cheek, too miserable and angry to struggle upright, enduring the bounce of the wagon in forced silence. Surely the roads around Camelot couldn’t be this bad?

A particularly bad lurch garnered a shout from the wagon train. Enjolras found himself tossed onto his back, the thunk of his head against the boards bringing tears to his eyes. He blinked them away, staring at a string of birds hanging from the roof of the wagon.

Among the partridges and pheasants hung a chicken, its familiar scrawny body deformed by the axe handle protruding from its head. The sharp, gleaming axe handle.

Slowly, carefully, Enjolras got to his feet and made his way to just under the swinging blade-beak. The wagon was not very tall, but he was short. He’d have to jump, and be both smart and lucky about it, or the rocking uneven movement could easily send him careening into the wall.

Well, he’d never been too smart and luck clearly wasn’t on his side. No point in waiting. Enjolras took a deep breath and launched himself up, bound wrists forward, just as the wagon lurched to the side. Enjolras grasped madly at whatever he could catch, and found himself grasping Soup’s body with both hands. The string of birds snapped and tore, sending him tumbling down.

Quickly, hoping the noise he’d made wouldn’t summon any henchmen, Enjolras wedged Soup’s poor body between his knees and drew the rope binding his wrists across the blade-beak. A few slices cut straight through it - the beak was sharp.

Hands free, it was the work of seconds to free his legs, though the lurching of the wagon meant that his grasp on Soup’s corpse slipped and the sharp blade-beak cut into his hand. Enjolras merely wrapped it in a strip of shirt and kept going.

Once he was free, he set Soup’s corpse gently aside. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Then, feeling slightly silly for having thanked a dead rooster, he pressed his face to a crack in the wagon’s side and peered out.

He was too late. They were through the gates of Camelot. Instead of filling him with despair, however, this filled him with anger. He  _ would  _ save Camelot.

Enjolras burst from the wagon. “Hey!” he yelled. “It’s a trap! Montparnasse - ”

“Attack!” screamed Montparnasse, casting off his cloak and revealing his sword-hand.

-*-

It was chaos.

From all of his father’s stories’ and descriptions of war, Enjolras had known that it was an awful thing, full of death and mayhem. But the stories had always made a point of how noble the knights and soldiers were for fighting in it and endangering itself. There had been descriptions of battle plans, ambushes, battlefield formations. Some meaning and sense to it all. This - this was pure madness. Everywhere around him, guards and knights battled Montparnasse’s metal men. There were screams and cries of Camelot residents who’d been caught up in the battle.

Through it all, Enjolras ran after Montparnasse and his henchmen. No chase through winding alleys this - the castle stood proudly at the end of the main thoroughfare. But Montparnasse and his people had no care for those in his way, and Enjolras had to dodge swordblades and cowering townspeople. Montparnasse reached the castle ahead of him, cutting down the guards and slamming the door behind him. Enjolras put on a burst of speed - just in time to slam into the doors as they were bolted from the inside.

Enjolras gasped from the pain. The doors were sturdy oak, hard as iron. And of course they bolted from the inside - it was a castle. It had to be defensible.

But there had to be another way to get in… Enjolras cast around wildly. To the side, one of the castle’s towers was ringed with scaffolding, though the builders who had been working on it had scattered. They’d left their ladder behind, so Enjolras managed the climb to the first level easily enough, though his hand smarted and bled through its makeshift bandage. The second level was harder, and the third worse still. Enjolras kept his eyes trained on the next level, determinedly not looking at the ground.

So when one of Montparnasse’s metal henchmen spotted him climbing up the scaffolding, Enjolras had no warning before the rickety wooden structure he was climbing began to collapse. He threw himself at the wall of the tower, hoping to grasp at a gap in the stone.

Instead, something grabbed him by the back of his tunic. Enjolras opened eyes he hadn’t even known he’d closed and found himself dangling in midair.

“Caught him!” cried a hissy, whistly voice.

“Bless you both,” said a warm, rough voice.

Enjolras twisted, trying to look up. “R? Joly? Bossuet?”

“Got it in one, sweetcake.”

Enjolras laughed in wild disbelief. “You’re flying!”

“Turns out Joly and Bossuet can fly, they just need some help. Speaking of which - hey, Joly, Bossuet, did you grab him by the butt because he needed ass-istance?”

The dragons giggled.

“What?” Enjolras waved his arms at the battle below him. “We don’t have time for puns!”

“Oh, trust me, we do. But let’s set you down. Where were you going?”

“I need to get inside the castle,” Enjolras said. “Montparnasse is in there, and he’s going to kill the Queen.”

“Not if we can help it,” R said. “Bossuet, Joly, set us down at the royal stables. There’s a secret tunnel to the throne room there in case the king or queen needs to escape.”

“Which building is the stables?” asks Bossuet.

“Red roof, big yard.”

“I see it,” Joly said.

The dragons swooped down, causing Enjolras’s stomach to rise into his throat. They set him down in a pile of hay, landing so R could climb off their back.

“Thanks, guys,” R said. “Do you think you can fly on your own now?”

Joly shrugged. “We can do enough damage on ground level even if we can’t fly.”

Bossuet grinned. “Let’s see if those metal goons can handle dragon fire.”

“See you on the other side,” Joly said. He winked at Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded, a lump in his throat. “Good luck.”

R took his arm. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

“Lead on,” Enjolras said, and they ran into the stables.

-*-

The tunnel was completely dark. They made their way through carefully, trying not to slip on the slickly wet floors. Enjolras held on to the back of R’s shirt while R used his staff to feel his way through.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Enjolras said, after a long silence.

“No need to thank me for doing what needed to be done,” R said. “I was a coward before.”

“You’re not a coward.” Enjolras shuddered. “The battle out there is horrifying. No one who doesn’t want to fight in it is a coward.”

“Still want to be a knight?” R asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. You’re braver than a lion.”

“You think?” Enjolras smiled in the dark.

“Your father would have been proud.”

Enjolras’s smile shrunk a little. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t…. he didn’t want this for me. He didn’t want me to be a knight. He wanted me to stay at home and learn my duties.”

If R thought this sounded odd, he didn’t show it. “Doesn’t matter. He still would have been proud of you, no matter what.”

Enjolras sighed. “Thanks.”

“No problem, sugarplum.”

-*-

The sounds of a fight began to filter through the stone of the passageway.

“There,” Enjolras whispered. Ahead, a shred of light shone from above, catching the edges of a set of rough stone steps. “I see it.”

R’s sigh of relief was just barely audible. “Good. Of course, I knew it would be here.”

“Obviously.” Enjolras squinted against the dark. “That trapdoor looks heavy.”

“Flagstone. We’ll manage it.” R’s staff caught the edge of the steps. Above, someone spoke, the words indistinct through the stone. Only the tone came through - whoever was talking was very pleased with themselves. “The entrance is sort of hidden under the Round Table, but it’s not invisible, so we need to be careful.”

“I should go first, right?” Enjolras whispered. “Look around.”

“Be careful.” R let Enjolras step around him, following him up the stairs.

“Here.” Enjolras moved aside, so they could both push against the trapdoor, guiding R’s hands into place. His own hands shook, only settling against the stone itself. “On the count of three.”

They pushed, and the stone lifted. Enjolras peeked out.

“Stealing a sword won’t make you King, Montparnasse,” said an unfamiliar female voice. A pair of legs encased in fine silk skirts stood against the edge of the Round Table.

“But I didn’t steal just any sword, did I, little lark? I have Excalibur. If it can make a whore’s daughter Queen, what do you think it will do for me?”

Enjolras could feel R stiffening beside him. He squeezed R’s shoulder and tapped one of the hands holding up the trapdoor. Slowly, carefully, they clambered out of the passageway and set down the flagstone. It settled back into place, indistinguishable from all the others. Enjolras tried to memorize where it was, in case they needed it later.

“It looks like it’s killing you,” the queen retorted. She skirted around the edge of the table, stepping away from Montparnasse as he stepped ever closer.

“Killing me? My dear, quite the opposite. Power runs through my veins.”

“Not the power of the kingdom. That’s dark magic, Montparnasse. Look at yourself! Are you even human, anymore?”

“Oh, Cosette. I don’t need the power of the kingdom. And I don’t need to be human when I can be a GOD!” He lunged forward. Queen Euphrasie dodged, but Montparnasse was faster. He caught her and threw her onto the Round Table.

The queen groaned. “You’re still a bully and a fool.”

“And you’re still a pain.”

“Where’s your knight-master? Was one betrayal of Camelot enough for him?”

“Oh, he’s long gone.” Montparnasse laughed. “I must admit, he’s much more useful now that he’s dead.” 

Enjolras leaned in. “We need to surprise him. Give Her Majesty a chance to recover.”

“You’re a crazy man,” R whispered, but he nodded as Enjolras described his plan. The staff and Enjolras’s little knife exchanged hands. Each crawled in a different direction.

“Even if you kill me, Montparnasse, you won’t kill Camelot.” The queen coughed wetly. “My people will protect it.” 

“You know, you sound exactly like your accursed father.”

“He was right. You may have betrayed him and Camelot, but we survived. Camelot is strong.”

“We’ll see how strong you are when you’re bleeding out of a stab wound,” Montparnasse said. Then he shouted, “The hell?”

“For Euphrasie, you bastard!” R yelled, throwing himself at Montparnasse’s feet. Enjolras’s plan counted on keeping Montparnasse disoriented, so he kept going, pushing Montparnasse forward until had his back to the open window. Montparnasse growled, kicking out at R - and stumbled backwards over the staff that Enjolras held out, half- hidden behind a tapestry.

There was a breathless moment in which time seemed to stand still, and Montparnasse teetered over the window sill, scrabbling for a grip. Then Enjolras leaped up and shoved him. Montparnasse fell backwards into the courtyard.

At the last second, he caught Enjolras’s sleeve. With a wordless scream, he dragged Enjolras, kicking and yelling to be let go, out of the window with him.

“Enjolras!” R shouted. “Enjolras!”

“What in all the hells is happening?” asked Queen Euphrasie, struggling upright. “Who are you?”

“Cosette - Euphrasie - Your Majesty!” R stumbled upright.

“Grantaire? My god! Who was that with you?” She slid from the table, coming to stand next to R at the window.

“Sir Enjolras’s son. We were bringing Excalibur to you, but-” R’s breath caught in his throat.

“That sounds like an excellent tale, but I think I’ll have to hear it another time. Your friend is still moving down there, and so is Montparnasse.” Euphrasie grabbed R’s hand. “Come!”

“You haven’t changed,” R said. He moved his foot around the floor until he found his staff, kicking it upwards and catching it in a fluid movement that he followed with a wince. “After you, Your Majesty.”

-*-

Enjolras came to with a gasp. Everything hurt - but the pain was slowly fading from impossible to merely horrible.

“Good, you’re alive,” said the woman kneeling beside him. “Now, where is Euphrasie?”

Enjolras blinked at her, taking in the hands glowing with magic. “Merlin?”

“That’s  _ the _ Merlin,” snapped the Merlin. “Tell me where Euphrasie is.”

“Still alive. Round Table.” A searing stab of pain sent nausea rolling through him.

“Oh, stop being a baby, it’s only all your ribs healing. What’s your name, idiot who jumped out of a window?”

“Didn’t jump. Was pulled. Enjolras.”

“I thought I saw Lady Juliane earlier. Don’t worry, she’s as safe as any of us right now,” the Merlin said, when Enjolras opened his mouth. “Now, this will hurt.”

Before Enjolras could demand if she thought that the rest of her ministrations didn’t hurt, he passed out again.

The Merlin slapped him. “I’d let you rest but Montparnasse is waking up, and two people are better than one.”

“I don’t know any magic.”

The Merlin handed him a sword. “The pointy end goes towards the other person.”

“That’s advanced technique,” Enjolras said.

The Merlin smiled crookedly. It made her look a little less scary. “Better learn quickly, then.”

Across the courtyard, Montparnasse moaned.

“Should’ve just stabbed him where he lay,” the Merlin muttered.

“That’s dishonorable.”

“I  _ know _ ,” the Merlin said. “Besides, I don’t have an enchanted sword handy. I doubt a regular blade would have done anything.”

Enjolras waved his sword around. “What’s this for, then?”

The Merlin shrugged. She pulled a crystal wand from her robes and began making passes in the air.

Enjolras looked around, hoping for something he could use as a weapon. The courtyard was mostly empty, except for a large stone at the very center. “Hey, is that the stone the queen pulled Excalibur from?”

“I’m concentrating,” the Merlin hissed. Then she paused her wand-waving, eyes widening. “I’m an idiot.”

“Do you have a plan?” Enjolras asked.

“No time for plans,” the Merlin said, as Montparnasse got to his feet. “Just stay alert, and listen when I tell you what to do.”

-*-

“We’re here,” Euphrasie said. “Montparnasse has his back to us, but if we step away from the wall young Enjolras and  Éponine  will see us. We should be able to sneak up on them if we’re smart and lucky.”

“Well, I can’t say I have a claim to either of those, but I’m good at sneaking up quietly on things with much better hearing than Montparnasse. The question is, would it help?”

“I think so. We could at least distract him a little - or you could hit him with that staff. His head is uncovered. A good thump will at least disorient him .”

“Then tell me what the courtyard looks like, and I’ll go.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Grantaire.”

R gave her a weak grin. “What? Protect my queen?”

“Am I your queen? Because you left, Grantaire. You left me.”

“You didn’t need me, Cosette.” R grabbed her hand and brought it to his heart. “But you’re still my queen, and I’m still your friend if you want me.”

Euphrasie squeezed his hand once. It was enough. “Listen. The courtyard is relatively clear of rubbish…”

-*-

“Little girls,” Montparnasse hissed, “Should stay out of the way.”

The Merlin snorted. “I’m three months older than you, dingbat.”

“I’m talking to the other one,” Montparnasse said. “This is the second time you’ve gotten in my way, Kailey. You’re just like your father.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Enjolras said, though he had gone white.

Montparnasse smirked at him. “You’re going to die just like he did, too.” Then he whirled around and chopped R’s staff in half.

“Who’s this? A blind man, how charming. Now the circus troupe is complete.” He picked R up by the hand that still had fingers and tossed him carelessly in Enjolras’s direction. “Here you go.”

The toss was halfhearted at best. R landed barely halfway across the courtyard.

“No!” Enjolras raced towards him, sword scraping uselessly against the ground. He skidded to his knees next to R. “God, R.”

“Hey, buttercup,” R said, then coughed. “That hurt.”

“I know, but you need to get up.” Enjolras hauled R’s arm over his shoulder and half-dragged him upright. “Come on-”

Montparnasse advanced on them. “I’ll make it quick.” He laughed. “Or maybe I won’t!”

They stumbled backwards until they reached the stone. “When I give you the signal,” Enjolras whispered, “roll away.”

“Yes,” R said. “What?”

“The Merlin said it would work.”

“Éponine?”

Montparnasse swung Excalibur above them - 

The sword came down - 

“Now!” Enjolras shouted, and shoved himself off the stone. R dropped to the ground.

Excalibur slid into the stone, smooth as butter.

The Merlin screamed something in a language foreign to human tongues. Light flashed - golden light, warm and sweet as honey, that left no pain behind. In fact, Enjolras’s injuries seemed to vanish. Through squinted eyes, he saw Montparnasse in the midst of all the golden light, a blot of sickly green light that shrunk until it was no more.

Montparnasse just laughed, until all that was left of him was smoke - and Excalibur, shining gold and silver once more, stuck through a stone.

While they were all blinking in the aftershock, Queen Euphrasie stepped out of her hiding place. She strode forward, silks shining like polished armor, and drew Excalibur from the stone.

-*-

Enjolras and R sat on the steps of the castle. There was an air of celebration in Camelot - there had been evil, but it had been defeated, and the queen was safe. Rumors were already flying as to who exactly had been doing the defeating, but no one looked at the two dirty young men sitting in the sun.

“Can’t believe that magic fixed my staff,” R said. “I mean, talk about attention to detail.” He elbowed Enjolras. “Hey, you all right?”

“Of course I am,” Enjolras said with forced cheer. “We saved Camelot.”

“You sound like someone just killed your cat.” R frowned. “Is it your mother? You know everyone was healed -”

“Didn’t you hear what Montparnasse said?” Enjolras burst out.

“He said a lot of stupid things,” R said, wrinkling his nose.

“He called me Kailey,” Enjolras said quietly.

“So? Is that your name?”

“ _ No _ ,” Enjolras spat. “But... it used to be.”

R nodded slowly. “You know, your father was really proud of you. He talked about his daughter constantly. He never talked about a son.”

“So you knew?” Enjolras turned to stare at him.

“Nah. But I guess it fits.”

“And you don’t - you don’t…”

“I figure you’ve earned the right to decide who you are by yourself.” R shrugged. “Besides, look at the queen. Look at Éponine. Who you’re born as doesn’t matter. What matters is who you become.”

Enjolras spent a good long moment speechless. Then he said, “Thank you.”

“Nothing doing.”

They sat there in the sun. After a while, their hands touched.

They were disturbed by a man calling, “There they are! Enjolras! R!”

“Sounds familiar,” R said, head tilted to the side.

“I don’t recognize him,” Enjolras said. Then he saw the woman behind the stranger. “Mother!”

“Darling,” Lady Juliane said. She held her arms out and Enjolras ran straight into them, returning her embrace. “Oh, thank heavens. I was looking for you everywhere, but Sir Bossuet said he thought you’d be near the castle.”

“Bossuet?” Enjolras asked dumbly. He pulled away from his mother and looked over at the stranger, who waved at him cheerily. His bald head glinted in the sun. “You’re human?”

“Sure am,” Bossuet said cheerfully. “Joly’s talking to the Merlin - she wanted to know what happened to that double-headed dragon she’d seen during the battle.”

“I think,” Lady Juliane said slowly, “I would like to hear the whole story.”

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “And you need to meet R. He helped me find my way in the Forest, and he knew Papa.”

Lady Juliane followed her son’s gaze, looking at the stocky, wild-haired man he was staring at lovingly.“Then I would love to meet him.”

-*-

Enjolras and R were knighted.

They also each received a royal purse, enough to set them up for life. Enjolras put his in his mother’s capable hands. Under Lady Juliane’s eye, the Enjolras lands could be restored to their former glory. Enjolras himself stayed in Camelot. Even though he’d been knighted, he was in no shape to serve the kingdom as a warrior. He was missing years of training, and the rest of the Round Table wouldn’t let him forget it.

“Your balance is still off,” Joly said, leaning on the fence that ringed the practice yard. As a human, he had a limp that meant he needed a cane most days. Nevertheless, he was a demanding training master, with an unerring eye for mistakes.

Enjolras adjusted his stance. “Better?”

“It’ll do,” Joly said critically. He poked his cane at the small of Enjolras’s back until he straightened. “You’re too short to stoop.”

Enjolras scowled. “I’m taller than the queen.”

“That’s not exactly a rare achievement,” drawled R.

Enjolras’s head whipped around to where R was leaning against the outside of the fence. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“As an advisor to her Majesty, I am impartial,” R said, lolling against the fence. (R had found that he was incapable of following orders, especially, he said, “from a person who tried to scare a blind man with a shadow monster”. Instead, as a person who had lived in the old Camelot and was getting to know the new, he offered a unique point of view that made him a valued advisor. Quite apart from that, he spent his days mocking visiting nobles and diplomats. Euphrasie liked to say that he was rude so she wouldn’t have to be.

“I’m rude,”  Éponine would say, looking offended.

“Yes, dear, but you terrify them. I need Grantaire to annoy people.”)

Joly snorted.

R waved a lazy hand. “Yes, yes. Anyways, the council meeting was over, so I decided to come check on you.”

Enjolras opened wide, imploring eyes in Joly’s direction. “I’m done for the day, right?”

“You may have half an hour,” Joly said. He shook a finger. “Don’t make me drag you out here like last time, Enjolras.”

Enjolras blushed. “I won’t.” He put aside the practice sword and ran over to R, hopping the fence in one smooth movement.

R took his hand, smiling. “Eager to get away from your cruel taskmaster?”

“Maybe I just like spending time with you,” Enjolras countered.

R smiled. “Maybe.”

Above them, a silver-winged hawk circled. It swooped out over Camelot, over the towns and villages, over the Forest. Then it flew back to its mistress, with nothing to report..


End file.
